Violent Tendencies
by Infinium167
Summary: A young thief named Lywyn has taken up with Maven Blackbriar's brother, Crosius (OC). Their relationship is violent and turbulent, eventually leading Lywyn to confront his view of the world and find something more to life. M/M, A bit dub-con. Lemons! Disclaimer: I do not own elder scrolls. Chapters 1-6 uploaded. An epilogue and an alternative ending will be posted soon.
1. Chapter 1: Marry Me

**Violent Tendencies**

Chapter one

I eased the door shut quietly behind me, slipping into the kitchen. It was too dark to make out a shadow from a shape, however, and my stealth was short-lived as I cracked my hip against the kitchen table, swearing venomously. I could feel a bruise forming through my leather armor.

"Glad to see you made it home safe, darling." _Shit_. I froze at the voice; trying frantically to pinpoint what direction it was coming from. "Were you out drinking or thieving tonight?" He sounded un-characteristically cheerful.

I hesitated, and then replied truthfully. "Thieving. I hit the jeweler's stall." There was no reply but I could feel the heat of his gaze radiating from the direction of the open bedroom. I moved slowly towards it into the doorway. I could see his form sitting on the edge of the bed, a languid shadow that was unnervingly still. Crosius hated it when I came in late. We took each other in through the gloom, neither moving as the tension built. When he finally spoke, I felt myself shiver at the simple command.

"Come." I obeyed quickly, dropping down onto the bed beside him. He leaned over the nightstand and lit the candle. I saw emotion in his eyes through the flickering light; relief overlaid fear, but the predominant glint was one of anger. This did not bode well for me, I decided.

"I brought you something…" I tried quietly. I reached into my pocket, producing the heavy silver chain I had swiped from the jeweler's safe earlier. Its links were beautifully crafted, glinting in the candlelight in a way that reminded me of his hard grey eyes. He looked it over before setting it wordlessly on the nightstand beside the emerald ring and ornate pocket watch I had brought him on other such occasions. He was still for a long moment, staring at the far wall, and when he suddenly reached for me I felt myself flinch back involuntarily. But his hand was at my throat, pushing me back onto the bed, and I yielded with a soft sound of surprise. Then he was leaning over me, his grip slowly tightening, and I squirmed beneath him in a panic. His free hand wove through my hair, finding a tight grip, and I whimpered as he jerked my head back.

"I told you to stop this foolishness," he hissed into my ear. I laid still, focusing on drawing in air as his hold on my neck tightened. "One of these nights you are going to end up with a dagger in your back. I won't loose you like that." He leaned hard on the hand at my throat, cutting off my air entirely. I tried to jerk away but found there was nowhere to go. Helpless, I pushed at him weakly until darkness began to close in around the edges of my vision. Then the pressure lifted as suddenly as it had fallen, and I was sucking in gulps of air like a drowning man. The relief was short lived however, as his lips crashed against my own, smothering me once more. Desperate and choking still, I bit down hard on his lip and tasted blood. A hard slap rocked my vision sideways and I felt my own blood seeping onto my tongue as well. It was a heady mixture and the betraying warmth of arousal clouded my thoughts through the pain.

His hips ground into my own and I gasped aloud, bucking forward to meet him. "You like it when I hurt you?" He growled the question at me and I nodded guiltily. He knew anyway. Crosius had known this side of me for a long time now, having stumbled upon it in a fit of anger much like the one we were both entangled in now. I loved that he cared enough to watch over me. He worried like a mother over my nighttime habits, I knew, and a part of me refused to give them up simply because I relished his punishments when I disobeyed. I walked on eggshells around him, intentionally crushing them beneath my feet now and again to rouse his temper. His heat warmed my frozen heart even as it burned me to a cinder.

Then his mouth was on my own again, tongue forcing its way in, and I tried to rise to meet him. But it was all dominance and pressure, forcing me down further onto the bed, not allowing me space or time to kiss him back. He was slipping down, kissing along my jawline and down to my neck, and when he bit hard and worried the already bruised flesh between his teeth I moaned aloud, yanking at his tunic with my fists. I felt the smirk against my skin and then he was soothing with his tongue and lips. He pinned both my hands above me easily with a quick motion when I reached for him. I felt dizzy and hot as I lay there, taking whatever he gave, unable to fight or love him back.

He made short work of the leather that was my only protection against the onslaught, undoing the buckles with deft fingers and pushing it open to reveal my chest. Teeth nibbled at a nipple, making me jolt. "Stop," I gasped, but he ignored my half-hearted protest. He knew I didn't mean it.

"We need to talk…" I tried weakly. He paused and stared at me. I started to speak again but a heavy hand covered my mouth, silencing me. Then he leaned down to whisper in my ear and I felt the last of my resistance crumble away at the raspy growl. "I have nothing to say that I haven't said a thousand times, little thief."

The rest of my clothes were discarded quickly onto the floor. He rose, releasing me, and I followed him up for a kiss. He broke it short with a nip that stung my swollen lips, spinning me around and forcing me down over the edge of the bed with one hand on the center of my back. He bit down hard on my shoulder, distracting me briefly before he pushed inside of me in one quick movement. I screamed then as the pain seared through me, unprepared for the action. He waited as tears formed in my eyes. Then he was thrusting slowly, fingers gripping my hips. I bit down onto one of my hands to stifle the sounds that were trying to leave me, the other holding the sheets in a white-knuckled fist. This went on for a long moment, me fighting hard for dignity as he hurt me from inside. Then he ripped the hand from my mouth, twisting it around to pin it behind my back as he sped up harshly. It was too sudden and I cried out, loosing the battle. I heard a low laugh in my ear and squeezed my eyes shut.

"I want to hear it," his breath was hot and ragged on my neck and I felt myself shiver as I let out a low moan.

The wrist he held was twisting hard with each motion and fresh tears spilled over my cheeks as his free hand buried itself in my hair and pulled. His ruthless tempo slowed down just a bit, giving me enough space between the thrusts to gather myself. The pace was softer, more careful now that I had submitted, and I became of aware of the aching hardness in my member. It was grinding into the edge of bed but not enough to bring any real relief. And then he hit the spot inside of me, and I felt fire began to grow within me. Once more and I yelled out. Thrice, and my vision blurred. Then it was gone as he shifted and I groaned in dismay.

"Say it," the words were shaking slightly and I knew he wouldn't last too much longer.

I gasped wordlessly as he pounded into me, purposefully avoiding the angle he knew I desperately needed. I steeled myself, unready to give up the last of my rebellion. Nails racked down my lower back and I yelped again.

"Say it," he snarled and bit the tip of my ear harshly, "And I'll make you see stars." The pain made my head spin and I felt it shoot straight to my member.

Giving in all too quickly at the promise of release, I whispered _please_ into the sheets. He heard me and I was quickly rewarded with a wave of the pleasure. But it was just a taste and he shifted again to deprive me.

"Louder." One word. It was commanding and dripping lust.

"Please!" I complied readily, yelling out what he wanted to hear. And then he was hitting me dead on, too fast and too hard, and I lost myself in the rush of white that crashed over me. It surged through me and I contracted around him. I heard him cry out behind me, his thrusts becoming ragged and unpredictable, and then he collapsed over me, breathing heavily. I knew he had come inside but couldn't find the energy to be bothered.

We lay there for a good while, simply existing against each other's exhausted heat. Then he pulled out of me and I fell to the floor at his feet, legs too numb to stand. I looked down at the trickle of red and white liquid staining my thighs. Then he lifted me and deposited me onto the bed, following me with a satisfied huff. Most of the tears had dried on my face but I wiped absently at my eyes. He was watching me with an unreadable expression. Then he kissed me gently, hands cradling my face, and I realized the look was one of love.

I met his display briefly and then pulled away, reaching over him for the silver chain that still lay discarded on the nightstand. I looped it over his head and admired the way it hung against his chest. The fine silver matched his eyes just the way I thought it would in the flickering candlelight. It was the most beautiful thing I'd seen in a long while, and I smiled. This was love, at least for us, and I wanted to explore all the shifting dynamics of his heart even if it killed me. I slid down off of the bed and dropped to my knees on floor. It was cold and hard on my sore body but it was perfection. I looked up at him. Crosius was watching me with interest from the bed.

Two words. That's all I needed to stay in this fucked up heaven forever. "Marry me," I said, and he smiled and nodded.


	2. Chapter 2: Shelter from the Tempest

Chapter Two

I was born on the streets of Riften with thieves' blood running through my veins. I grew up in Honnorhall Orphanage, where I was taught that the world is made up of fear. It is made of fear and filled with pain, but one can find small pleasures hidden in it if they look hard enough. That is why I asked Crosius Blackbriar to marry me that night as I knelt on the floor. He exemplified my view of the world in the way he twisted and hurt me and then fed me little scraps of love. He was strong and fierce, a warm beacon of light right up until the moment he would turn that fire upon me. Singed and bruised, I clung to the flames anyway for everything else was dark.

The first time I was arrested for stealing, he came and retrieved me in a panicked flurry, railing at guards and carrying on until they agreed that it was of course "just a simple misunderstanding". He is a man of influence in the Rift. He is also an intimidating man.

That was the first night that he made me bleed. I understood though, knew that he was just scared like me. It would take me years to realize that a man like him fears nothing. Possibly feels nothing. I am getting ahead of myself though.

Our engagement was brief and I felt as if I was on top of the world. I was marrying Crosius Blackbriar and I had never need worry about anything ever again. The Blackbriar's had money and power. They had all of Riften in their pocket. In truth, I had been living with Crosius for nearly a year and had not wanted for anything since the day I met him. But I still wandered and stole frequently, a habit that irked the Nord to no end. It was ingrained in my being however and I did not intend to stop. The one promise I did make was to leave the Thieves' Guild once I was a married man. It hurt my heart to do so, for they were the only family I had ever known, but I had to offer my man some sort of compromise. He had long since earned it by putting up with my sticky fingers and bitter heart.

* * *

The night before our wedding I made us an elaborate dinner, working in a whirl of flour and spices for several hours to surprise him when he came home. I didn't expect him back for at least the better part of an hour and I was in the midst of trying to fix a rather over-salted soup when the door swung open. I jumped with a guilty start, the surprise ruined.

"What is this?" He asked, taking in the disaster that the kitchen had become.

I fidgeted for a moment before finding my voice. "I was trying to make dinner. Since we're getting married tomorrow I thought I would surprise you," I replied. "It's not going great," I added, seeing his eyes roaming over the mess I'd made.

He was silent for a moment. Then he laughed out loud, crossing the room to pull me into his arms. He kissed me quickly, a light peck on the cheek. "Well let's see what you've made."

I scooped a bit of the soup onto a ladle, raising it to his lips. He tasted it and furrowed his brow. "Too much salt, I know…" I quickly interjected before he could comment on it.

"Its not bad though," he said. "Maybe add a little more water to dilute it and it'll be perfect." I did as he suggested and we tasted it again together, mutually pleased with the result. We moved about the kitchen as a team, cleaning as we went and fixing the several dishes I had over or under seasoned. Cooking was not among my better talents, but Crosius was surprisingly adept at knowing just what to tweak to make my attempts edible. I was working on cutting the burned edges of off a lightly overdone horker loaf when I felt him press up behind me, his hands reaching up to ghost over my chest through my tunic. I leaned back into him, smiling and humming happily. Then he was kissing the back of neck softly, murmuring into my ear that the loaf could wait a few moments. I turned into him eagerly, kissing him with much more gusto than he had expected. Before I could register what had happened I was sitting on the kitchen table, legs wrapped around his hips as he sucked at the pulse on the side of my throat. I gasped and ground myself against him. So engulfed were we that I nearly forgot the sweat rolls I had been baking until the smell of burning sugar and bread startled me back into reality. I shoved him off, hopping down to race to their rescue.

"What the hell, Lywyn?" Crosius called after me, righting his shirt as I hastily pulled the rolls to safety.

"The sweet rolls were burning," I replied with a wink. He shook his head and stifled a laugh.

* * *

Our wedding was short but stiflingly formal and I found myself shifting uncomfortably under the gazes of all of Crosius's family and friends. He had insisted that it would be unseemly for any of the Thieves Guild members to attend and although I had agreed, I still couldn't help but feel alone in the crowded temple. At one point during the ceremony, I met Maven Blackbriar's eyes and nearly shuddered at the look she was giving me. Where Crosius was intimidating, his sister bordered on terrifying. It was no secret either that she didn't much care for me. I was a street urchin and far below her family's social standing. Whenever we met she always gave me the distinct impression that she resented simply having to share air with me. But this was not about her, so I turned to Crosius with a smile and shook off the eyes that seared into my back.

After the wedding, my new husband and I stumbled into our home, already a tangle of limbs and quickly falling clothes. He steered me towards the bedroom and I let him lead me until we reached the bed where I abruptly turned the tables, pushing him down and landing on top. He laughed in surprise but it quickly turned into a moan as I covered his mouth with my own, palming his erection through his pants. I broke the kiss and he watched me with hungry eyes as I removed the last of his clothing. I didn't hesitate. I took him into my mouth to the hilt, drawing up slowly. He sighed out his approval, running a hand through my hair as I worked him up. I felt his wedding band tangle and tug painfully at my scalp. It was arousing: a reminder that we were now joined. I drew back to tease him, swirling my tongue around the tip of his member deftly. This was my show now. This was where I excelled. Within moments I had him panting and bucking up into the heat. I nearly choked when he grabbed my hair and started to pump roughly down my throat. After a long moment he stopped, suddenly pulling me back up by the hair. I could see a raw hunger in his gaze and I felt myself harden beneath it.

Then he was on top of me, pinning me down with his weight. His hands were all over me, roaming and exploring as his mouth claimed mine in a fierce kiss. He swallowed the sound I made when he started to stroke my member. By the time he took me into his mouth I was a shivering, moaning mess. My thighs were trembling with the effort of holding back my release as he started to stretch me with a finger. The discomfort of the intrusion aided me as a distraction. But that too soon turned to pleasure and I finally had to tell him simply to cease.

"Crosius, stop," I warned softly. He ignored me, mouth still working on my weeping member with far too much heat. "Please!" I nearly yelled.

He lifted his head inquisitively, fingers still inside of me. "What?" He asked.

"I'm going to explode, that's what. If you want to make it to the main event you're gonna have to ease up a bit," I panted. He smirked and flicked his tongue over the tip of my member teasingly. I tensed and shuddered just as he had expected.

"Alright, Lywyn." And then was back at work, adding a third finger, but mercifully leaving the rest of me alone to breath. I yelped and jolted when he found the particular bundle of nerves within me, and couldn't help but push back with my hips, trying for more friction.

It wasn't long before he climbed atop me and entered me slowly and lovingly. The pain came and faded quickly and then I was in heaven with my lover inside of me, the sounds of his passion helping me on my way to release. We carried on like that for most of the night, testing new positions and old limits until finally we both lay still and thoroughly exhausted. My head was resting on his chest, his arms around me. I wove my fingers into his, admiring our twin rings in the dim light that the candle provided. The gleam was intoxicating.

"Do you like it? The ring?" He asked sleepily.

"I Love it." I replied, grinning broadly. "And you," I added as a yawn escaped me. He kissed my forehead and smoothed back my hair, which had become a wild mess. I fell asleep that night with my strong Nord wrapped around me like a blanket. Something had left me the moment I had married him. I felt the distinct absence of hovering fear. I had found a pleasure in a world of pain and I intended to hold onto it forever.


	3. Chapter 3: Old Habits Die Hard

**Chapter Three**

 _Old Habits Die Hard_

I awoke to the sound of a door slamming. Crosius was nowhere to be seen but I could hear the rumble of his voice, angry and defiant, coming from the other room. I rose and rubbed the last of sleep from my eyes, too bleary still to deal with the ruckus. Bright afternoon sunlight was streaming in through the curtains and I went to the window to peek out over the lake. I had slept long and hard. I pulled on my breeches and a wrinkled shirt from beneath the bed. It was slightly too large for me and I realized that it was Crosius's.

A sudden burst of yelling from the kitchen made me flinch. I heard a female voice rising shrilly, probably Maven's. I caught the phrase "street-rat whore" and decided it was most definitely Maven. I'd be damned if I was sticking around to hear out the rest of that argument, so I slid out the backdoor and down the steps to the dock. I went around to the stables and saw Maven's horse grazing as I passed. The beast eyed me warily and turned away with a snort. I hurried past and went through the front gate of Riften, making straight for the sewer entrance. I wound through the corridors of the Ratway, slipping past a vagabond who appeared to be sleeping off a hangover. I knew this network of passages by heart.

As I wound through the dimness I was for a moment once more a nameless thief, penniless and lost in the world, making my way through the slimy underbelly of the city. Then I stepped out into the Ragged Flagon and the spell was broken as all eyes turned to stare at me.

"Well, well, look who it is! I hear you're a married man as of yesterday, Lywyn. Didn't think we'd be seeing you again so soon." Delvin was the first to speak, rising from his seat to slap me on the back in congratulation.

"Indeed I am." I smiled and held up my hand, showing off the ring for all to see. Tonilia looked it over before nodding approvingly.

"So did the courier with our invitations get lost on his way, lad?" Brynolf seemed to materialize from the shadows. I stared at him for a long moment.

"Crosius handled the guest list," I said simply. I fought the urge to fiddle with my ring under his stare, forcing my hands into my pockets. The tension lingered as no one spoke. Then he was crossing the room to pull me into a rough hug and relief flooded through me.

"Of course lad. I'm only playing." He released me and I realized that I had been holding my breath. "Vekel, pour this man a drink! A round for everyone."

And so I had a breakfast of ale and spent the day laughing and reveling in old comradery, loosing track of the hours and drinks. By the time I stumbled through the front door of Honeyside the sun had set and Crosius was at the table eating a dinner of venison and stewed vegetables. He paused mid-bite to take me in, his fork hovering above the plate with a large chunk of meat speared on it. Neither of us spoke as I fixed myself a plate and sat down to eat. We chewed in silence. I gathered the dishes and felt his eyes boring into my back as I washed them. Finally there was noting else left to do and so I returned to my seat and stared at him, playing absently with my ring and waiting for his words to cut me.

He let out a long sigh. "You smell like ale and sewer water," he stated.

I nodded in agreement.

"You were with those criminals in the Ratway."

I didn't need to nod this time.

"Go get cleaned up, little thief." He was too calm. I rose quietly, pausing in the doorway to whisper the word _sorry_. He grunted in acknowledgment and I went to bathe.

* * *

"I heard Maven in the kitchen. I didn't want to see her so I went out the back."

"I know." He was peeling off his clothes, preparing to slip into bed. He still wasn't looking at me. Anything was better than this frigid coldness.

"She thinks I'm a gold-digging whore," I stated bluntly, trying for a reaction. Crosius glanced at me, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you?"

I snorted in amusement, slipping up behind him to wrap my arms around his waist. "Of course. I want your _jewels_ ," I breathed the word seductively into his ear with a sly smile, dipping my hands southward to caress him for the innuendo. He laughed and spun around to grab me. I danced out of his grasp and he followed me across the room until he pinned me to the wall, a hand on each of my wrists. I struggled weakly in mock protest, trying to tease him further into lighter spirits. He pressed his body against my own, stilling me with the pressure of his weight. Then his mouth was on mine and the playfulness was gone, hard lust taking its place. I fed him a moan as our tongues twined and danced.

He broke the kiss and drifted to my neck, sucking at my pulse and releasing my wrists to undress me. I leaned into him, running my hands through his hair and resting them on the back of his head. The moment was too tender.

"Cynric said I'm the luckiest man in the Rift," I breathed into his ear. "I told him all of Skyrim." He bit down harshly and I jerked away, smacking my head into the wall behind me with a yelp.

He backhanded me and I stumbled to the side, catching myself against the wall to keep from falling. I raised a hand to my face, shocked, and it came away bloody. His ring had cut me. He stalked towards me and I backed away. He stopped just in front of me and I stared at him wide-eyed.

"Don't talk about that rat's nest when we're intimate," he said. Then he turned away and tossed back the covers of the bed, settling beneath them. I stood there, looking back and forth between the blood on my hand and his form under the blankets for a long time. Then I stripped off my clothes and slid in beside him to fall asleep to the sound of his breathing.

* * *

Two days later I passed Brynolf in the market square while on my way to the leatherworker for new boots with Crosius. The thief master was leaning against the stone half-wall that circled the market booths, appearing to simply enjoy the sunshine. I knew he must be scouting for pockets to pick and I silently sent out a prayer to Nocturnal for his good hunting. We caught each other's eye and I nodded briskly as I passed. I felt his eyes on my back and I risked a glance over my shoulder to see him staring after me, a pensive frown dominating his features. I hurried on, absently rubbing at the bruise on my cheek.

Crosius left three days later for a business trip to the Blackbriar Meadery in Whiterun. I came home from seeing my husband off to find Brynolf seated at my kitchen table, twirling a lock pick between his fingers.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I was dumbfounded. He rose with a welcoming smile, gesturing at the vacant seat. I came and sat, still awaiting an answer. He settled himself once more, slowly and comfortably, purposefully trying my patience.

"Let's talk business," He began and I inwardly shuddered. "You've been a hard man to get a hold of since you married that Blackbriar man, you know. All sly smiles and stolen nods but rather hard to pin down. Been awful careful with the company you keep, hmm lad?" He was smug and languid, too at home uninvited in my house.

"Crosius is a respectable man. I wouldn't want to sully his reputation," I spat back.

"Easy there, lad! You wound me." He laughed.

I sighed and shook my head. "What do you want, Brynolf?"

"Tiredrila Fadaul," he stated matter-of-factly. "Well, her unguarded goods anyway."

"Who in Oblivion is that?" I asked, reaching forward to swat at his boots that were now crossed on top of my kitchen table. He swung them down to the floor with a _thump_.

"The daughter of a wealthy merchant in Morrowind, traveling all alone for the first time on her maiden voyage to sell goods in Skyrim and expand her father's enterprise. She's lost and alone in this harsh world, poor lass, and stuck at Vilemyr Inn until business picks up. That's where we come in." He winked. I was already shaking my head. "Oh come on, it'll be an easy job. Drop in, woo her, get her tipsy, and then fill our pockets on the way out the door. Two days including travel."

"You know damn well that I'm not a Guild member anymore," I told him pointedly.

"Which pains me greatly," he exclaimed, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. "But you're still a thief. And a damned good one at that," He added.

"I'm clean, Brynolf. I don't need any more reasons for Crosius to regret marrying me."

"Does he?" His expression was suddenly unreadable.

"Get out." This game was over. He rose and headed for the door, dropping the lock pick he had been holding into my lap as he passed. He hesitated with his hand on the knob.

"Come see me when you change your mind," he called back cheerfully. But still he didn't step outside.

"What is it, Brynolf? Spit it out." I told him. His eyes were dark as he turned back to me, all humor gone.

"If I see another bruise on your face I will have words with Crosius," he said flatly. I started to tell him to mind his business but he interrupted me sharply. "And Maven." And then he was gone, melting into the bustle of the street outside and leaving me to sit at the table alone and mull over all he had said.

It was not his business. I was happy. I had found my port in the storm and intended to weather it out here for life. I toyed with the lock pick he had left, turning it this way and that. It fit perfectly in my hand, my fingers handling it with an easy comfort born of practice and muscle memory. I thought about the chase and the hunt, how the thief was both the predator and the prey, and felt something stir within me.

When a letter came from Crosius later that week informing me that he was lengthening his stay in Whiterun for another five days, I set the paper on our desk and pulled on my old leather light armor. It still fit like a glove. Then I set off for the Ragged Flaggon to find Brynolf.

* * *

"There she is." Brynolf nudged me with his elbow. She was young and quite pretty for a Dunmer (I had never been particularly attracted to the elf races). Tiredrila was sitting in a corner table with a tall dark-haired bard, seemingly engrossed in a conversation about fine wines. I watched her swirl her drink as she spoke, laughing heartily before taking a sip. Her manner and dress spoke of inexperience and naiveté: an easy target.

I took a gulp of my ale and leaned closer to my companion, studying our mark as casually as possible. To any onlookers, we appeared to be traveling sell-swords eyeing up the local maidens. "What's our play-by-play?" I asked.

"Simple. We introduce ourselves, buy them a round, find out where her room is, and then you go to _relieve yourself_ while I keep them busy with a little charm."

"Alright then," I nodded and downed the last of my ale, setting the mug down with a clank. We rose together and strode towards Tiredrila and the bard. Both ladies looked up in surprise as Brynolf leaned on the edge of the table.

"Mind if we join you, lasses? We haven't seen faces as friendly as yours in many a mile." He gave them a winning smile before adding: "The next round is on me of course." Brynolf's smile seldom failed and now was no exception. Before long we were all chatting and laughing together. I did my best at winning over the bard simply for kicks and within the hour she was gripping my arm as she leaned over to whisper a raunchy joke in my ear. Her breath smelled strongly of wine and the punch line didn't quite make sense but I laughed heartily anyway.

"So how long are you in Iverstead for?" Brynolf angled.

"As long as it takes me to sell a few of my wares. I can't afford another long carriage ride until I make some good coin." She replied.

"Have you thought of going to Riften? It's not too far and there's much more traffic flowing through. You'd be set within a day," I offered.

"Divines, no. I've heard enough about that city and their riffraff cut purses to steer clear. I've no mind to loose my valuables." She dismissed me abruptly and turned back to Brynolf who shot me a smug grin. "I'm much safer here in Vilemyr Inn. And my room is quite nice all things considered. They gave me the largest one at the end of the hall. You should see it," she flirted. The brief fluttering hand gesture she made towards the back hallway told me everything I needed.

"Excuse me," I slurred. I stood and swayed, feigning a stumble as I made my way towards the front door. I heard giggles behind me as I stepped out into the brisk night air. I breathed deeply and crept along the side of the inn, keeping to shadows. A guard passed on the main street and I froze for a second. He carried on his way and I slid around to the back of the building. The night was ripe with crickets and the wind played music in the treetops across the river. I took it all in with relish and the beauty of the world mixed with the anxious excitement pooling in my stomach. _Oblivion, this was living!_ I had missed this dance more than I realized.

I found the cellar door and made short work of the lock. Then I sank down the stairs and into the basement. It was dark and I had to move slowly to avoid tripping over the crates of mead and the occasional bucket that had been left lying about. I drifted back out into the inn from a door that opened behind the bar. The innkeeper's back was turned and no one paid me any mind as I slipped past him and down the hallway in the direction Tiredrila had motioned. _The door at the end of the hall_. I glanced around once more to make sure no one was coming and set about picking the lock. It took only seconds before I was rewarded with a click and the door swung open.

Immediately I realized my error. It was all but empty with only a dirty set of men's breaches strewn across the bed. Still, I had gone through the trouble of breaking in so I rifled through the nightstand and dresser. My search turned up only a few tawdry coins. Before I departed I made one last bid for luck and reached into the pocket of the breeches. I felt hard metal and pulled out a simple silver ring. It wasn't much but it sent a shiver through me to know that Nocturnal had humored my mistake with fortune. I thanked her silently, my patron Prince of thieves, and then went to find Tiredrila's room.

I had tried the one directly at the end of the hall. That left only the room to the left or right. I sighed. Leave it to luck then…

I settled on the door to the right and broke my lock-pick almost at once. I swore under my breath and produced another. "Good things are kept behind strong locks," I reminded myself. My second try prevailed. Nocturnal was truly generous indeed that night, for it was Tiredrila's room and it was ripe for the picking. A set of ivory white combs was lying on the dresser and I felt lifted one to feel the weight of it. It was heavy and smooth on my palm. I pocketed them along with any other nice trinkets left in the open and then raided the trunk at the foot of the bed. It produced several small vials of exotic spices and a collection of jeweled bracelets. These I tumbled into a satchel that was sitting on the nightstand and took it with whatever unknowns were buried inside. I did one more quick sweep, opening drawers and cabinets and snatching anything portable that caught my eye. Satisfied, I closed the door and hid the satchel beneath the folds of my coat. I crept back behind the bar. The innkeeper was on the other side of the room gathering a few abandoned mugs and glasses. _Perfect_. I caught Brynolf's eye as I crossed to the basement door and then exited out into the night.

I was already across the bridge that marked the edge of Iverstead and getting ready to fade into the trees to wait for him when the thief master caught up with me. "Well?"

"Nocturnal has been generous tonight, my friend." I tossed him the satchel and we set off towards Riften under the cover of the forest. As we walked I gave him the details and we both laughed until we nearly cried over my burglary of the wrong room. I showed him the plain silver ring that served as my souvenir of the misadventure.

"Keep that one, lad. It's a gift from Nocturnal." He told me when I went to drop it into the satchel with the rest of our loot. I slid it onto my finger wordlessly.

Brynolf brought me my cut of the pay several days later. Unsure what to do with the hefty purse, I finally wrapped it in an old tunic and squirreled it away in a drawer. I had no need of the coin anymore now that I had married Crosius. Still, it might be useful in a pinch.


	4. Chapter 4: A Heavy Snowfall

**Chapter Four**

 _A Heavy Snowfall_

My husband came in through the back door, dropping his traveling bag and coat onto the bed and then following suit himself with a tired grunt. "Crosius!" I sung out happily as I went to him.

"Lywyn," he replied without raising his face from the soft sheets. "I'm exhausted."

I sat down beside him and started to rub his back. He moaned his thanks as I worked the tightness from his muscles, pausing only once to hike up his shirt.

"Lunch is ready if you're hungry," I told him.

"Mara's blessings, I'm glad I married you right now," he mumbled into a pillow.

"Here, I'll bring you a bowl." It was a thick potato soup; one of the few recipes I had managed to perfect. He sat up and wolfed it down gratefully.

We spent the afternoon catching up on the last two weeks. He told me about the sorry state he had found the meadery in and the wolves and bandits that had plagued his trip. I told him white lies about all the hunting I had done to occupy my empty days. I got good prices for the pelts. I had improved my archery shot mightily. I had been bored and lonely. I had been restless while he was away. The last part, at least, was not a lie. I had been restless indeed, tossing and turning without the warmth of his body beside me. We made love that night and it was hot and sweet, pent up passion finally finding an outlet in each other's arms.

The next five months went by in marital bliss. Autumn ended and Skyrim's winter came on fast and strong. I passed the snowy days in the forest hunting deer and elk from the saddle of a pretty mare Crosius had bought me as a gift. I hated the scream the animals let out when my arrow found its mark, but the arc of every life had to end somehow and I made sure my shots were clean and true. During those days I grew accustomed to the sight of blood on the snow. My nights were spent curled up on the hearth with a book, watching the candles burn down low. We kept each other warm as frost gathered on the windowpanes. And if some days I woke with a limp or a new bruise upon my face it didn't matter; no one else was there to see it. I did my best to behave myself that winter. I kept my hands clean.

But old habits die hard when they've been trained since birth and I couldn't help but recall my last job at Vilemyr Inn with a fond longing. Some nights it was all I could do to keep from creeping down to the Ragged Flagon once Crosius fell asleep. I would sit up by the fireplace and watch the way the flames cast their light on the stolen ring I still wore beside my wedding band. I compared the dull silver to the expensive gold. It slowly became a metaphor to me; symbols of my old life and the new one I had traded it for.

By the time spring chased away the last of the snowfall I was more restless than I had ever been. I took to frequenting the Bee and Barb, Riften's inn and alehouse, almost every evening. One night when I was deep into my cups I caught sight of Brynolf by the back door. He was chatting up a traveler whose clean-cut face and youthful smile told me he had much to learn about the city. I was sure Brynolf would teach him one way or another.

The thief master turned and caught sight of me. He made an abrupt beeline towards my table and I immediately rose and went out the front door. I staggered out into the crisp night air and did my best to put one foot in front of the other in the direction of home. I hadn't gotten very far at all before I came across Brynolf leaning on a railing, gazing down into the murky canal that ran beneath the city. He looked as if he could have been standing there all night, simply lounging and waiting. I knew he must have moved damn fast to intercept me.

I made as if to hurry past but he stepped in front of me, throwing an arm around my shoulders and steering me towards the railing. I let him place me there and then leaned forward to watch the water in drunken resignation.

"It's been a while, Lywyn." He said quietly.

"It has," I agreed. He drummed his fingers against the railing in thought. The silence stretched on and we observed the dirty water side-by-side. Finally he sighed and turned to look at me.

"Maven knows that I took you on that job in Iverstead last fall."

"Does she?"

"Yes. You know she's going to tell Crosius," he told me calmly.

"He doesn't care," I said briskly. I was still watching the filthy currents churn below.

"Don't lie to me!" He snapped. I raised my head and looked at him. His eyes were glimmering with anger and something else that was undecipherable to me in my current inebriated state. We stood and stared at each other for a moment, old comrades simply taking each other in. Then he put a hand on my shoulder and simply said "please" and I realized with a start that the strange gleam in his eye was fear. He was afraid for me.

"I'll tell him first," I promised him.

"Don't," he said firmly. "Come to the Cistern and wait it out for a few days." But I was already walking away, determination in my step. I tripped and stumbled. My last drink was hitting me strong now. My vision was slightly blurred and I must have found my way back on instinct alone, for before I knew it I was standing in front of my house with no memory of how I'd gotten there. I noticed the absence of my coin purse at my belt and laughed aloud at some lucky pickpocket's good fortune. I loved this city with the fibers of my being.

I swayed and caught myself against the door with a _thud_. It opened inwards and I fell forward into Crosius's arms. He hauled me inside and slammed it shut. I was tossed onto the bed where he flung the coin purse from my job in Iverstead at me. It hit my chest and then fell, spilling its contents onto the sheets all around me. Maven had been quick to tell my secrets. The coins clinked and rattled as he pinned me down atop them and the rest of the night was a blur of yelling and pain.


	5. Chapter 5: Fear, Flight, and Foxglove

**Chapter 5**

 _Fear, Flight, and Foxglove_

I awoke the next morning in too much agony to register my hangover. My lip was split, dried blood still on my chin, and my left eye was swollen shut. The rest of my body was a checkerboard of bruises and several deep scratches ran along the length of my stomach. I didn't leave the house for a long while after that night. I let time work its magic on my body but my spirit felt its passage with a cold indifference. Crosius was distant and wouldn't touch me in love nor anger. I tried persistently to seduce him at first, and when that failed I attempted to provoke him. Any attention was better than none. But I could not even manage to rouse his temper and before long it simply didn't feel worthwhile to get out of bed.

It was a visit from Maven that finally drove me from Honeyside. She sat in our kitchen, sipping tea I had made her and watching me smugly over the rim of her cup. She and Crosius spoke of their family mead business and as she informed him of the various ventures she wanted to send him on over the coming months, she took in my faintly battered face with relish. After nearly twenty minutes of her passive gloating, I could take no more.

"How is your tea?" I asked pointedly.

"Good, but bit too sweet," she replied with a smile.

"Is that so? You look as if you want another lump of sugar." I said venomously, taking a small sip of my own. Crosius reached over to put a hand on the back of my neck, fingers digging in a little too hard to be soothing. I stood, forcing him to either let me go or hold me down with obvious effort; I wagered he wouldn't make a scene in front of his sister. I guessed correctly and his hand fell away as I rose. "I think I need a bit of air, love. I'm going for a ride." I smiled sweetly at him and then nodded brusquely to Maven before going to the bedroom to pull on my boots.

"It is a bit stuffy in here," she called after me. It was a jab, I knew, and so I simply stalked to the backdoor. I let it slam behind me and hurried down to the stable to find my horse.

The little bay mare greeted me with a nicker and I bridled her quickly, not even taking the time to saddle her before swinging up onto her back. I took off at a brisk trot down the road, not caring where I ended up as long as it was far from Maven. In the end I simply rode a long lap around the lake. As I passed Goldenglow Estate, the sprawling mansion where I had done my first real job for the Guild, I found hot anger boiling up inside of me. The job had been at the request of Maven Blackbriar and I spat onto the ground as I kicked my horse into a gallop.

I veered off onto a side trail and let the mare canter as hard as she wanted cross-country. I gripped a handful of mane to keep my balance as she leapt over a fallen log and then sprinted on into the forest. She was a lively thing, always pleased to run, and I was suddenly jealous of her spirit and willpower. She took everything in stride, never startled or nervous, with a fearless freedom in her step. I had never been that way. I was always looking for an easy out, for fast money, for the next burrow to hide away in. My brief childhood in Honnorhall had given way to an adolescence spent picking locks and melting into shadows. Fear had plagued me, driving my every move and sending me into the arms of a man who swallowed me whole to hide me from it.

I had spent my life on the run from life itself. The realization hit me like a fist to the gut, winding me as my horse plunged on through the woods. By the time my mare slowed to a walk I was gasping for breath and shivering. The fear was rushing in, choking me, and I had nowhere to go. I panicked then, slipping from her back and staggering to the base of a tree where I sunk down to the moist earth. I pulled my knees up to my chest and leaned back against the bark, looking up at the light filtering through the leaves above. It was pretty and soothing as I got my breathing under control. My horse carried on for a few more strides and then seemed to notice her rider was missing. She stopped and made her way back to nudge me with a velvety nose. When I didn't respond she wandered off a ways to graze in a patch of sunlight.

I found myself looking at my hands, turning them this way and that to study them. They felt foreign. Everything seemed far away until my eyes settled on my wedding band and the silver ring beside it on my middle finger. I saw something wet fall onto the gold. I was crying, I noticed dully.

"This is all I have," I whispered. "This life is it. What am I doing? I have a husband. I'm in love." I told myself. And it was no lie. I ran my hands across my face, smearing the tears and wincing as I brushed my still swollen lip. The only thing I had ever been sure of was that I needed him. I had always known that he had violent tendencies. I enjoyed them often during our lovemaking. I didn't enjoy it so much when they leaked out through the cracks in the bedroom door. But one could not have joy without a bit of pain. Honnorhall Orphanage and the life-blood of Riften itself had taught me that. Crosius reminded me of it often.

I took several deep breaths and told myself I was okay. I said it aloud a few times until my voice stopped wavering. Then I hauled myself back to my feet and collected my mare.

But my gut still felt full of stones and I suddenly didn't want to go home. I had been quite rude to Maven. Would he be angry? I thought of Crosius throwing the coin purse at me that night, remembered hazy flashes of the vicious beating that had followed. I thought of the emotion on his face, the passion I knew he had felt for me at that moment and the fear that had paralyzed me in return. He had been mad that I had gone against his word and put myself in danger; he was afraid to loose me. I thought of how I had begged and moaned as he made love to me with a fist around my throat, holding me down as if he couldn't bear to let me go.

Confusion set in upon me then. I sat on my horse and puzzled it over. I liked it when Crosius pulled my hair and bit my shoulder but flinched back when he reached for me. I loved him like nothing else in this world but feared his displeasure equivalently. I didn't really mind that he hurt me. I had been hurt many times by people who had given me much less in return. It was a fair trade. Still, every time I turned my horse towards home that anxious fear froze me up and kept me hovering in place.

I wanted to simply curl up and hide.

Perhaps some time away from Crosius would help me to gather my thoughts. Yes, time to sort myself out would do me good. I would wander for a few days, pull myself together, and then go home to my lover like a good husband.

I knew in my heart that I was running again but I felt helpless to fight it. I turned my mare in a new direction and rode all evening and half the night. I cried on and off, alternating between a floating emotional numbness and fits of panicked fear. I finally had to stop and rest when my horse would walk no further. I didn't know where I was and the night had grown cold. Winter had only just truly ended and its bite still lingered in the wind. The only shelter I could find was in the lee of a large boulder and I huddled there solemnly. In the distance the cry of a lonely wolf rose up and was joined by another howling out in answer. My mare shifted nervously and twitched her ears. I had not brought my hunting bow or even a dagger. That night was one long current of fear flowing into the next.

* * *

I awoke at the first light of dawn with a blanket draped over me. I looked down at it in confusion. I had not expected to fall asleep but exhaustion must have taken over at some point. I looked around but no one was in sight. The ground held no footprints.

"Good morning, stranger." A voice sounded out cheerfully from behind me. I leapt up nearly falling over the blanket in my surprise. I turned to find a petite blonde woman sitting upon the boulder I had been leaning against. I reached instinctively for the knife that I usually carried at my belt before recalling that I was unarmed.

"Who are you?" I asked as I edged further away.

"No use being nervous now, man. I had most of the night to rob or stab you if I had wanted to. You should really be more careful."

"It was an impromptu trip," I replied warily. She smiled disarmingly and slid down off her perch to approach me.

"You're welcome for the blanket by the way," she looked at me expectantly.

"Thanks," I said blandly.

She snorted dismissively. "Would you like some breakfast? I have a bit of bread and dried meat. And water. It's in my traveling bag." I stared in silence, trying to figure out her motive. "Travelling bag," she told me again. "You know, the kind people usually carry so they don't starve or die of exposure…" she trailed off sarcastically.

"Thank you," I said again simply. She walked to the back of the boulder and returned a moment later with the offered supplies.

I hadn't eaten or drank since I had left Honeyside the afternoon before and I fell upon the food with a passion. She sat down on the grass and watched me as I gulped down the water.

"You're horse is tethered with mine in a field nearby incase you were wondering," she looked me over disapprovingly, seeming to judge my negligence. "I only found you cause she wandered into my camp."

"Smart mare, that one." I smiled wryly.

"Want to tell me what you're doing out here with days old bruises on your face, a saddleless horse wandering free, and no supplies or weapons?" She asked.

"Not really." I told her honestly.

"That's a right shame, stranger, cause I think I deserve an answer as compensation for my compassion. One might hazard you were a horse thief, roaming around in this state with a fine horse like that." She crossed her arms sternly. We stared at each other for a long moment in silence.

"The mare is mine. My husband bought her for me last winter." She raised an eyebrow.

"So you're a married man?" I held up my hand to show her the ring. "Is that really all you've got to say?" I nodded.

"Can't be helped then. See ya." She stood, snatching the now empty water-skin from me and walking off.

As I watched her go, long hair swinging down her back, I was struck again with a flash of panic from the night before. I thought of Crosius and how much I suddenly wanted his arms around me, needed his gruff voice telling me it was okay. I desperately didn't want to be alone.

"Wait!" I started after her. She didn't stop but slowed until I caught up.

"Gonna talk?" She asked curtly.

"Yes. Just please don't leave me here. I'm…" I hesitated. I didn't want her to think me weak, but that ship had likely sailed already.

"Bored? Sick? Itchy? Horny? Spit it out." She snapped.

"Scared," I finished lamely.

She stopped and looked me up and down, hands on her hips. "Well I knew that but its not often a man admits it aloud. Come, ride with me for a bit. I'm headed towards Riften."

I lingered in indecision. I didn't know if I wanted to go back to Riften yet. But it was either ride home with this intriguing stranger or head off deeper into the wilds defenseless and hungry. The better option was clear and I hurried after her. My horse was tethered with hers just as she had said, grazing happily. Her mount was a large appaloosa gelding, thick-boned and sturdy, and my little mare looked quite happy in his company. She raised her head to greet me as I approached, whinnying shrilly. I gave her face a good rub and then introduced myself to her new equine friend as well.

"What's your name, stranger?" The woman asked as I helped her dismantle her small camp and load up her bedroll.

"Lywyn," I told her and offered my hand.

"Foxglove," she replied and shook it heartily.

We mounted the horses and she took the lead, guiding me towards what I assumed was the direction of the road. The morning was bright, the fresh air of spring lending its vigor to the world. It was a nice day to ride and Foxglove's ardent demeanor was contagious. We talked of all sorts of insignificant things ranging from our mutual love of afternoon coffee to the essentials of casting a novice fire spell. She spoke of swordsmanship tactics, an area in which I was remarkably deficient, and I told her of the steadiest way to fire an arrow and hit true. At one point she tossed me a dagger and I threw it deftly, impressing her by calling what twig of a nearby tree I would strike with it before I threw.

But after several hours we ran out of light chitchat and the conversation took the turn that I knew it would have to take. "What happened to your face?"

I didn't want to tell her. She had a friendly glow; she seemed the kind of person that could fit in with any company and win over even the sourest of individuals with her charisma alone. She emitted trust and strength. I felt dirty and weak in comparison and I desperately wanted her to think well of me. But I owed her answers, and honest ones at that.

"My husband." I admitted quietly. She shot me a look as if she would be sick and I quickly added that I had earned the bruises.

"Fuck that," she snapped. I fidgeted with my wedding ring in silence for a bit as we rode. And then I could stand the quiet no longer. I heard the story of my trip to Vilemyr Inn last autumn pouring out of me like a waterfall. I told her about how Maven had somehow found out months later and jubilantly spilled my secrets to her brother. The healing marks on my face were the souvenirs of that adventure. I couldn't stop the words from coming. Within minutes she knew about my past with the Thieves Guild and how I hurt my husband often by my inability to let go of the thrill. Finally I simply ran out of words and she stared ahead, mulling it over.

"Sounds like a right mess of a life, friend." She said after a while.

"It is," I agreed. "But it's worth it. I've got the most beautiful man in all of Skyrim," I told her wistfully.

"He sounds like a pig. And you'd be better off working a street corner than lying in his bed." She told me bluntly. I was stunned into silence for a moment. "Also, judging by the things you told me about his sister, she has all the soul and charm of a hagraven."

"You don't know him," I stuttered. The part about Maven sounded pretty accurate though.

"I don't think I want to," she drawled back.

"My life was hell before I met him," I argued.

"Still is." She offered.

I took a deep breath, choosing my words carefully. I didn't want to come across as a pervert. "I like it, you know…" I edged. "When he's rough with me. It works for me."

"Sex is sex however you like it," she said nonchalantly. "When we were together I let my ex man back in High Rock tie me up and have at it. But what happens in bed needs to stay in bed."

I sighed. This was not an argument I was going to win. I had the finest man I could ever want and that was all that mattered. It was past time I got home to him, I decided.

* * *

The ride back to Riften took longer in pleasant company than my crisis-fueled flight from it had and we camped that night by the river. Foxglove, who possessed an innate knack for magic, kindled a fire with her fingertips to my delight. I felt a twinge of jealousy for her Breton blood. As a Nord who had spent his life dodging city guards and picking locks I had never had the chance to consider cultivating a mage's skills. Perhaps I would have Crosius buy some books and try my hand at it when I got home.

"I think you should rejoin the Thieves Guild," Foxglove blurted. I shot her a confused look. "I know you miss it and you sound as if you could use a bit more action in your life."

Crosius would never have it. I had promised him before our wedding that I would give it up. I told her as much and she shook her head in frustration.

"He doesn't have to know…" she trailed, winking at me from across the flames.

I laughed aloud. "You'd make a terrible wife!"

"Indeed. That's why I'm an adventurer instead." She smiled proudly.

I fell asleep that night with all Foxglove had said running circles around my mind. I didn't agree with most of it, but her spirit was contagious. Rejoin the Guild. There was a thought. I did miss the nights spent on the run, adrenaline pumping through me, scaling walls and dropping into dark townhouses through unlatched windows. Maybe I would do it. But I wouldn't go back on my word to Crosius without talking it over with him. He would have to understand.


	6. Chapter 6: It's in the Blood

**Chapter 6**

 _It's in the Blood_

I parted ways with Foxglove at the Riften stables the next morning. She surprised me with a tight hug and a peck on the cheek, telling me to take care of myself before heading to the city gates. I watched as the guards tried to hustle her out of some coin; a few well-chosen words had her striding through unruffled. She was an enigmatic woman indeed. I went around the stable to the backdoor of Honeyside.

Crosius was out. The house was messy with the signs of daily life, smelling of warm bread and my husband's favorite cologne. I inhaled deeply, the feeling of safety and home washing over me. It was just the way I had left it.

I set about tidying up. I was halfway done folding some clean clothes that had been hung out to dry on the porch when I heard the front door open. Footsteps were coming down the hall. They paused in the bedroom doorway and I turned to see Crosius standing there with a bewildered look on his face. I ran to him and he caught me up, lifting me off my feet as I kissed him.

"That was a damn long ride. I had the city guard combing the Rift for you," he exclaimed. The look of relief that shone from his eyes made my own water. I wiped hastily at a tear before it could escape too far down my cheek.

"A bear spooked my horse. She took me for a good long run and I got lost," I lied.

"You hunt these woods all the time. You were that turned around?" He asked. I felt a swell of panic and swallowed in down.

"To be honest I was too terrified to think straight. I didn't have my bow and it got dark and I heard wolves. All I could think about was you finding my body in a ravine somewhere." I buried my face in his chest and he ran a soothing hand over my hair.

"It's alright, love." His gruff murmur set my heart to fluttering.

We spent most of the day in bed, Crosius repeatedly proving how grateful he was for my safe return. It was sweet and tender but also fierce. I had never felt more loved, even on our wedding night.

Time passed and the confusion of my minor breakdown slid to the recesses of my mind as I fell into the rhythm of life. I bought some books on novice spell craft and spent many evenings engulfed in them by the fireplace. Crosius and I laughed together at my feeble attempts to kindle flames or send lightning sparking from my fingers. The only magic I seemed to take to was frost spells; but those were inconsistent and shaky even at best. Still, it was intriguing and fun and gave me something to do when I was not honing my archery shot.

I visited the market square and the Bee and Bard often hoping to catch sight of Foxglove's long blond hair. But she was nowhere to be found and after a few days I decided she must have moved on to a more enchanting city. Riften was no place for a charismatic sword-maiden like her anyway. It pained me a bit to know that I would likely never get the chance to show her my frost spell. We had become rather close over our short journey together. But that was life and acquaintances come and go. I still thought now and again about rejoining the Thieves Guild.

* * *

Spring gave way to summer. I grew restless in the heat, bored with the easy hunting found in the Rift. My spell books lost their charm and so did the daily repetitions of married life. I picked small fights with Crosius just to see how vexed I could make him before he snapped. I was walking on thin ice but it was more exciting than trudging across steady ground. One morning I could sense that he had finally had enough.

"We need to talk, Crosius."

"Indeed we do, love. Sit." He was drinking coffee at the kitchen table and I poured myself a cup before joining him. "Shall I begin or would you like to go first?"

"I will." I folded my arms across my chest and steeled myself. "I'm rejoining the Thieves Guild."

"No you are not." He dismissed the statement with a shake of his head.

"It was not a question." I flinched as he reached for his cup and he paused in mid sip. I couldn't tell if he looked pleased or puzzled by my reaction.

"Whether it was a question or not, you have an answer. I'm not going to be shamed by your little _hobby_." He told me sternly. I was certain then that he expected me to shrink back and cede the argument. I did not intend to. Instead I took a deep breath and plunged in.

"It's who I am. It's in my blood." He raised an eyebrow at that.

"Who you are is Crosius Blackbriar's husband. And he provides well for you. Do you disagree?" There was an undertone of warning in his voice but I pushed on anyway.

"Not at all!" I exclaimed, shocked at the implication that I was dissatisfied with my easy lifestyle. "But all I do is hunt and cook and warm the bed. I think a man needs more action in his life than that to be healthy." I tactfully switched angles, feeling the conversation was turning in a direction that would not be beneficial.

He emptied his coffee cup and set it down a bit too hard. "So take up swordsmanship." He was standing then, tucking the bottom of his pants into his boots. He kissed me soundly and headed out the door to run his errands and go about his day.

I fixed myself another cup of coffee and sat back down to process the exchange for a while. Then I got dressed in my light leathers and working boots and went out the door.

"Fuck swordsmanship," I said aloud and headed towards the Ragged Flagon.

* * *

I led a double life for nearly two years. I roamed the streets at night, sometimes with Brynolf but often alone, cleaning out townhouses and market stalls. I plagued every estate and farmstead within a night's ride of the city. When Crosius went away on business I expanded my hunting grounds as far as I could reach. My hands were dirty and it was even better than I had remembered. I spent twenty-two months high on adrenaline. I made myself the bane of the Rift and if Crosius woke during the night to find me gone, he didn't mention it in the light of day. And the light of day was glorious as well! I was the perfect doting lover, cooking and cleaning and keeping the larder stocked with fresh venison. In return, Crosius pampered and kept me like a lord.

I was dancing in the eye of the hurricane. But no paradise can last forever and it was a lazy summer afternoon that the tumultuous winds finally managed to trip me up. We were wandering in the market square, arm in arm, when I saw a guardsman nailing a flier to one of the wooden pillars that held up the roof of the well. "What's this about?" I inquired, pulling Crosius over with me to take a look.

"Some lowlife has been ravaging the Rift," the guard replied. "Whoever the hell it is must be made of shadows 'emself. Leaves no lock unpicked and vanishes like a haunt the moment it's done. I'd have a mind to hunt the scum down myself if it weren't for my bad knee," he gestured at his left leg with a truly despairing look. "Took an arrow to it back when I was an adventurer." He offered unprompted.

"Shame…" I replied absently. I was scanning the flier. _The Wight_ , they were calling me. I felt a shiver run down my spine and had to fight to keep the smile from spreading across my face. I had never felt more alive.

I turned to Crosius to ask if he was ready to return home yet for I suddenly had the urge to kiss him in a way that would be unbecoming in a public place. The look in his eyes changed my mind immediately. He was studying me hard and I saw then that he knew. We walked on and spent the afternoon enjoying the bustle of the city as planned. But his arm felt stiffer around me, his words clipped and short.

Later that evening he watched intently as I undressed for bed, eyes flickering back and forth over my slender body.

"See something you like?" I teased him, trying to lift the suffocating atmosphere that was setting in. He came to me, shirtless and looming, and put the flat of his hand over my heart. I felt a fluttering beneath his palm. I scanned his naked torso and felt a flutter somewhere else as well. _Gods, he was handsome._

"You've gotten rather fit lately," he said softly, hand sliding down over the muscles of my abdomen.

"Have I? Must be all the hunting. Fresh air seems to do me good." I shivered as his fingers ghosted over my body. His other hand was on my cheek, tilting my head up so that I was looking into his grey eyes. They narrowed slightly. He kissed me then, open-mouthed and hard, pushing me against the wall. I groaned as a hand slid down to undo my belt. He pulled it free with one clean motion and drew back slightly to look at me again.

"So they're calling you the Wight. Not the most creative name for a thief, but better than Ghost or Phantom," he mused lowly.

"What are you on about?" I asked, voice wavering a bit.

"Oh, come now little thief. I saw how proud you were today in the market square. Don't be shy now." His voice was a dangerous growl. "Tell me, what have you really been up to?" I noticed that my belt was still dangling from his hand, the end trailing on the floor like a dead snake. I looked back at his face and was suddenly more afraid of him then I had ever been. I was cornered. I swallowed audibly, hesitating, before stepping off the ledge into the dark churning water below.

"Swordsmanship." I heard the snap of the belt before I felt it on my face. Then I was on the floor, the welt searing on my cheek. I saw him coming and shuffled backwards across the wood. It would have been near comical under other circumstances. He swung at me again and the buckle caught me across the side of my neck. I yelped and felt it bite into my arms as I covered my face.

A well-aimed kick sent me sprawling onto my side and then was on top of me, tearing at my clothes. My shirt ripped open and my arms tangled in the sleeves as I struggled.

"Crosius!" I shouted his name several more times accompanied by a jumbled mixture of the words _please_ and _stop_. He hit me again with the belt and this time it landed on my chest. The welt drew a thin line of blood. He had me on my back now, one hand on my throat and the other delivering a steady stream of strikes with leather to whatever part of me he could reach. The fist pressed down hard onto my windpipe and I screamed out in a choked whisper. I saw the deadness in his eyes then for the first time and realized that this man would kill me. Maybe not today, but this love would most surely be the death of me. In some ways it already had.

But I hadn't spent a lifetime running from fear simply to lie there and let it have its way with me. Even a rat can deliver a vicious bite when cornered. And if Maven Blackbriar was right about anything, it was that I was a street-rat through and through. And so, terrified, I struck him back across the face with the force of all the fear I had ever felt. In retrospect, it was probably the surprise that I had hit him rather than any actual strength of mine that sent him off balance. But his hand loosened on my throat and I took the opportunity to shove him hard. He fell back and I kicked him in the chest, shuffling backwards and away in the same motion.

I staggered to my feet gasping, the tattered shirt hanging off my arms. He stood also, regarding me like a wolf circling a wounded buck that swings its horns. He took a step closer.

"Back off, love." I snarled. My voice was hoarse and it hurt to speak.

"This is a new development, Lywyn. It's been years. I gave up thinking you'd ever hit me back."

"Me too," I replied honestly.

"How does it feel?"

"Strange. A bit backwards and wrong. But I think I like it."

"Are you afraid of what I'll do to you now?"

"Very."

"You'll love it," he told me. And I knew I would. I fed on his violence and craved his hands on my body in any manner. _But not enough to die for it._

I went to him then, locked our mouths in a kiss that was more teeth than anything else and tumbled him down onto bed. I ground against him, moaning like a cheap whore when he pulled my hair and bit at my neck in the way that he knew drove me wild. It was a savage descent; he poured all his rage into his kisses and I returned them with the ferocity of a wounded animal.

I took in his skin in the candlelight, savoring the way the light cast shadows playing on his beautiful face. I sucked him till he growled out my name in that husky voice. Then I rode him hard, and as he came inside me I looked into the cold eyes that were alight with the passion of fucking me. They shone with the love of conquest. I felt the fire inside me turn to a churning roar, felt it mounting to a climax that would burn me alive. As it washed over me, engulfing me in a moment of suspended ecstasy, I plunged my dagger into the side of his neck. He sputtered, still riding out the last waves of his release as he bled out onto the pillow.

 **Fin.**


End file.
